


I Know We’ll Meet Again Some Sunny Day

by iellimau



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Bittersweet, Bittersweet Ending, DNF, Dream Team SMP Angst (Video Blogging RPF), Gen, How Do I Tag, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, One Shot, Songfic, but ehhhhhhh, but only if you want it to be, or maybe it’s, sam isn’t really in this, take your pick, this used to be tagged as canon compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 01:28:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29305743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iellimau/pseuds/iellimau
Summary: “I’m surprised you visited,” Dream said, his voice even and cool against the scorching heat.“I’m surprised I didn’t visit sooner,” George countered. Dream smiled slowly, almost melancholy, before asking, “Are you sure?”A pause. “No,” George admitted, “but it’s a nice thought.”—In which George faces the consequences of his prison break attempt.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	I Know We’ll Meet Again Some Sunny Day

**Author's Note:**

> georgenotfound wakes up and comes onto the server once every two months to wreak havoc. i took that and i present to you: pain. enjoy.
> 
> for slight context, i’m interpreting the dream smp as a collection of people who left or were banished from some developed society in the world. not super relevant, but i think it’s a cool concept!
> 
> forgive any typos, this was written in my phone notes app lmao
> 
> (song is we’ll meet again by vera lynn)

The lava covering the prison cell’s opening was damn near scorching, even with the lingering effects of fire resistance potions. George was worried that the skin would melt off his back, and he had barely been in the cell for a few seconds.

Dream had been in the cell for considerably more than a few seconds. 

He would continue to be in the cell likely until long after the deaths of all the other citizens of the SMP, until the elder guardians trapped beneath perished of old age and nature wore down the walls and the lava could harden to rock.

It sickened George to think about. Of course Dream had done unforgivable things warranting punishment, not even taking into consideration the things that had led him to flee society and form the SMP in the first place. He stole and lied, manipulated people’s thoughts and emotions, and started conflicts for no reason other than to see what would happen. It had only been a matter of time before the SMP united against him as a common enemy. But to spend eternity in an inescapable obsidian box, surrounded by suffocating heat without so much as a bed to lay down in? It seemed to George a punishment far worse than death, which Dream had spent so many years cheating.

Perhaps his disgust was what had driven George into a panic, clawing to break a single stone from the prison wall with his pickaxe, mining fatigue be damned. Somewhere in his mind, this disgust had overwritten the disgust which George felt towards Dream when he had so confidently proclaimed that he didn’t care about anyone or anything. A shard of affection towards the man he had once known was buried in the flesh of George’s bleeding heart, and no matter how long he spent sleeping, ignoring the events that surrounded him and the friends he’d lost, the shard stung him with every heartbeat.

Even through Sam’s mask, his pity for George when he’d begged to see Dream was clearly written on his face and in his body language. He’d reluctantly agreed on the condition that George would never be allowed to set foot near the prison again after visiting. And what more could George have said? Frankly, he had already expected to never see Dream again; he hadn’t even wanted to. But the reality of his situation only began to set in as George was led through the narrow prison passages. This was not a place intended for rehabilitation of prisoners. When Sam said Dream had been sentenced forever, he meant forever; when he told George that he would never be allowed back, he meant never.

When George slowly turned around to face Dream, he scarcely recognized the man before him. Without the mask and signature green cloak, Dream in his humanoid form looked like any other strong willed man might, with his face and hands littered in scars and his figure still well defined, even in the ugly orange prison jumpsuit. Without his characteristic willpower, however— no amount of physical bulk could hide his weakness or his vulnerability. George had become accustomed to seeing Dream as a higher entity, untouchable in combat and unshakable in politics. It was like a punch to the gut to see someone so powerful rendered so powerless. Slowly, George allowed his eyes to meet Dream’s, unobscured by a hastily drawn mask.

“I’m surprised you visited,” Dream said, his voice even and cool against the scorching heat.

“I’m surprised I didn’t visit sooner,” George countered. Dream smiled slowly, almost melancholy, before asking, “Are you sure?”

A pause. “No,” George admitted, “but it’s a nice thought.”

Dream hummed in response, leaving George’s words to hang in the heavy air between them. George’s chest ached, longing for the mutual understanding he had once shared with Dream many months ago, before their community had begun to fragment and fall apart. George supposed that that feeling of comfort was what Dream had been chasing too, pushing back against the formation of L’Manberg since the day of its creation. No one had won in the end. L’Manberg was gone, the community house was gone, and the communal soul of the SMP seemed to have evaporated alongside its symbols.

“Listen,” George began, “I did something stupid— I tried to mine out a block of the prison wall.” Dream’s eyes widened slightly, but his expression remained largely unperturbed. “I know you said you don’t care, but I’m stubborn. I still care, and so I came to see you once before Sam permanently--“ he choked on his words briefly before resuming from where he’d stopped, “— permanently bans me from ever visiting again. So this is the last time I’m ever going to see you.”

The sound of bubbling lava filled the silence between them. Dream looked at the iron shackles on his wrists, contemplating his response. George chewed on his lip nervously, worried that he had come off too strong, and was about to begin backtracking when Dream spoke.

“I do care, George. I only said that so that maybe...”

“Maybe? Maybe what?” George blurted, too nervous and impatient to wait for Dream to finish his sentence.

“So that maybe you wouldn’t. Care.” Dream tilted his head to the side, avoiding meeting the other man’s eyes as George gaped at him, dumbfounded.

Something deep inside of George snapped, sending him reeling under a wave of profound emotional hurt. “Why would you say something like that? Don’t be stupid, thinking that you could just make me stop caring!” he yelled, trying to hold in the tears stinging the corners of his eyes. “You can’t have thought you meant so little to me that I’d just stop caring because you didn’t!”

“But you thought you mattered to me little enough that I’d stop caring about you over some pieces of cheap plastic, or some country,” Dream countered. Not wanting to admit that Dream was right, George sniffled and turned away.

“It’s not like that matters anymore now though,” George sighed. “This is the last time we’ll see each other. I thought you’d be there with me when I got old, maybe you’d even get old too if you wanted to, but I’m going to rot away, you’ll still be here, and you’ll never see me again.”

“Not never,” Dream hummed, “I think that we’re too close to broken apart by some obsidian and lava, or some stupid argument about being king and having discs. After all, you still came to see me, right?” 

“Don’t be stupid,” George huffed. “How can I talk to you if you’re stuck in here? I can’t just yell through the walls. I doubt Sam would let me send you letters, and I know for a fact he won’t let me come visit.” He sank to the floor, curling his knees to his chest and burying his face in the crook of his arm, hoping the orange light from the lava would mask his puffy eyes. Dream came to sit behind him, cuffs on his wrists clinking as he moved across the cell. 

“Well, maybe not in this life.” George looked up in confusion, but Dream continued, “I’ll find you in some other timeline, where there’s no SMP or L’Manberg and we can just  _ be  _ in peace, without having to worry about war or prison or surviving.”

“But I want to have that in this timeline, right now,” George insisted. “I won’t remember this life and what we have now in another timeline.” He sniffled again, swiping at the corners of his eyes to hide his tears before they fell. “We’ve been through war and conflict before and we were fine. Why can’t we have that again now?”

“It’s just how things worked out.”

“It isn’t fair.”

Dream leaned his head back agains the obsidian wall. “There’s an old song that this all reminds me of,” he mused. George dejectedly looked down at his hands. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Dream said.

“How does it go?”

Dream started humming, a little off-key in places, but melodic all the same. With a deep breath, he began to sing:

_ “We'll meet again _

_ Don't know where _

_ Don't know when _

_ But I know we'll meet again some sunny day.” _

George crumpled over himself, desperately pushing down shuddering sobs.

_ “Keep smiling through _

_ Just like you always do _

_ 'Till the blue skies drive the dark clouds far away.” _

George could remember the hardships they’d been through. He thought back fondly to when he’d still been a hunter trying to kill Dream, how many times he’d fallen victim to a clever trap. He thought back to when he and the other original members of the SMP had laid down a ridiculous number of crafting benches as the floor of their house, and how he’d laughed with the group at the bizarreness of it all. He remembered fighting alongside Dream and Sapnap against L’Manberg, being crowned king of the SMP, Dream’s iron fisted defense when his house was griefed.

_ “So will you please say hello _

_ To the folks that I know _

_ Tell them I won't be long _

_ They'll be happy to know _

_ That as you saw me go _

_ I was singing this song.” _

Even after he left the cell, Sam carefully leading him back through the blackstone halls,  George couldn’t stop the tears from streaming down his face. Sam didn’t comment, which George was grateful for. For hours, all George could think, could allow himself to think of, was the sound of a voice he would never hear again in this lifetime. But it would be alright, maybe not yet, but one day, because over and over, Dream’s soothing voice reminded him:

_“We'll meet again_

_Don't know where_

_Don't know when_

_But I know we'll meet again some sunny day.”_

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading <3


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